Haneed Was A Psycho

CHAPTER 6

Around two weeks later, a strong sense of fatigue and boredom began to envelop me, even though my mother and sisters had visited me on several occasions.

My husband's behavior proved to be a puzzle too intricate for me to decipher. He occasionally treated me with kindness, but more often — about 90% of the time — he appeared utterly unpredictable. His mood swings displayed no discernible pattern, and he seemed to grow easily irritated by even the slightest of my missteps, such as turning off his AC, reorganizing his shoes, or entering his room without permission.

I was in the midst of frying plantains in the kitchen when I heard Haneed's footsteps — he had returned from work, having resumed the previous week. He worked at his father's industry, located in Sharada.

Haneed made a direct path to the kitchen and informed me that I shouldn't leave my room open when I'm not there (another one of his "don'ts"). Honestly, I had grown weary of the rules and restrictions of the household, so I seized the chance to express my pent-up frustration towards him.

All my grievances burst forth in a torrent, as I demanded to know why he even married me in the first place, knowing that he wouldn't make a good husband.

Haneed's expression was a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. He left the kitchen without uttering a word, further escalating the situation since I had failed to contain my anger that day.

What irked me most about him was his silent treatment; he neither apologized nor provided an explanation for his actions.

I trailed after him to his room, but he shut the door in my face and warned me to stop shouting, a plea I blatantly disregarded. Using the bottom of my glassy slippers, I pounded on his door, and the last memory I have is the tight sensation of Haneed's grip around my neck before I lost consciousness.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on a hospital bed, an oxygen bulb placed over my nose. Startled, I removed the oxygen bulb and let out an immediate shout upon seeing Haneed beside me.

Swiftly, he covered my mouth, urging me to "shhhhh" (to be quiet). I maintained complete silence, my eyes wide open, as he reassured me to relax and promised not to harm me.

Suddenly, a nurse rushed into the room, having heard a scream. Haneed told her I was having a nightmare, and after I nodded in agreement, she left.

Fear of Haneed lingered with me throughout the night I spent in the hospital, and he picked up on it. As a result, he kept his distance, sitting on a chair far from my bed, occasionally gazing in my direction. I'm not certain he slept that night, as each time I woke up, he was awake.

The following morning, I was discharged from the hospital, and we returned home. Haneed carried me to my room, but as he laid me on the bed, he nearly collapsed from dizziness. Though I was the patient, I swiftly rose to my feet to support Haneed onto the bed. It then struck me that he hadn't eaten or slept throughout the previous day, so I promptly ordered food from Dalal restaurant.

Haneed resisted eating and confided that he considered it a form of self-punishment for what he had done to me. I had to threaten to report the incident to our families if he continued to refuse to eat.

Strangely enough, that incident wasn't entirely negative. If I am to truly admit, it brought Haneed and me closer than before. It propelled me to begin to grasp that there was more to Haneed's life than his family had revealed.

I resolved to uncover the exact nature of his struggles, marking the commencement of my journey towards understanding Haneed.